Page 4 of Marked by the Demigod

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* * *

Well, it’s not every day she has that sort of sex with a total stranger.

She’s not complaining. But, as she stretches on the bed and watches Jake wash the sleep out of his eyes, it definitely feels strange.

As if sensing her eyes, he turns to her with a raised eyebrow. “Did I wake you?” His voice rasps, as if the night had taken it.

“Only sorta. Not a person who sleeps well.” She could feel him watching her as she shifts around. “All my stuff is in my hotel room downstairs.” She reaches off the end of the bed, hunting for her shirt.

“You in town for long?” He smiles at her, something soft and a bit too affectionate for a one-night stand.

“Today’s my last day.”

After a brief hesitation, he nods, then splashes more water on his face. “I travel a lot, what city do you usually stay in? Maybe we can…” he gestures at the bed, face difficult to parse out.

It’s as if he’s struggling to say something, but can’t quite force himself to, and it’s very odd. Obviously odd.

Aimes shrugs on her shirt, then grabs the pad of paper from the bedside. “Here.”

He glances at the number. “California?”

“I work for the city of Los Angeles.” She fake grimaces at him, and he matches the smile before sitting on the bed next to her.

It’s a hair too close, too intimate, and Aimes leans back. He hesitates at her movement, as if the breath has caught in his throat.

“I never caught your name.” His voice dips down into the same whisper as before.

“Aimes. Aimelie, but...yeah. Call me Aimes.”

The strange glimmer across his face, then a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Aimes. Always good to meet someone new.”

* * *

The restof her day is mild by comparison, but there are worse things than a mild day. It doesn’t worsen the deep aching loneliness, so in retrospect it’s a success.

Maybe she needed that one night of excitement, she muses as she packs up her overnight bag. Maybe that’s what she needs.

Shouldering her small overnight bag, she closes the hotel room behind her. On the door immediately to the left, a middle aged man leans out of his room, eyeing her as if she’s stolen something.

She stops in her tracks and immediately checks to make sure she’s wearing all her clothes.

He drops his chin, eyes narrowing, something akin to shock on his face.

What the fuck?

Her skin tingling, she adjusts her bag then pastes on a fake smile as she walks past him.

“What did you do?” He calls out after her, but she doesn’t look back. Even small towns, as small as this town seems during a library conference, can have utter creepers. Engaging them is so not her brand.

Not that she has a defined brand, but she definitely likes to think them up when she’s bored.

* * *

On the flightto LA someone watches her with a single raised eyebrow. Each time she gets up, his eyes follow her.

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